From the recording Aftermath


I put my hands upon the plywood
and roll myself into the furnace's mouth.
Now that I am ashes
can you help to scatter me
somewhere beyond this?
I no longer understand
this house I haunt.
Shouldn’t this have burned?
I no longer understand.
After the fires and floods,
I am what remains.
Gather me so I am not lost.
Scatter me so I am not lost.

The whole world with me
huddles indoors,
Forgets to wind the clocks,
Makes the bed, then doesn’t.
Can’t remember where they put the vital things.
Makes systems to remember.

Our love is piled high in public places
because there is no room to bury it.
We forget to wind the clocks
and bury it one way or another.

Now it is a question of time
and how to spend it.
I do not want a return
to the rule of blood and hunger
When we lived beneath the fists of a larger ape
Who still lurks about the camps at night
Whose shadow
Haunts but no longer understands.

And yet
But surely…
Something has been lost.
And yet
But surely
And yet...
There are red winged blackbirds
singing by the river
oblivious to the wastesite
cordoned off in yellow.
I have never seen them before in this field
which had once itself been ash
where now they sing out their claims.
They sing out:

"There is
nowhere better
nowhere better
nowhere better
than this
than this"

Gather yourselves
We are not lost
We are what remains
We are what remains

Forward and
Backwards again
They dive